Smelling Good
by ShoelacesRUs
Summary: Oneshot. A peice of pie. A bit of orange. Two teenagers indulging in their innerchild.


Smelling Good

_Summary: One-shot. A peice of pie. A bit of orange. Two teenagers indulging in their inner-child._

Disclaimer: We own nothing at all.

It was a dark stormy night…then suddenly,

"BOO!" The surrounding occupants screamed in fright.

Mr. Boo started laughing hysterically.

One of the aforementioned screaming occupants glared at Mr. Boo.

Poor Mr. Boo did not suspect a thing; he just continued laughing.

However, Mr. Boo did notice when Ms. Occupant tackled him. Mr. Boo was momentarily shocked, but having been trained in situations such as this one, he quickly had Ms. Occupant on the defense.

Ms. Occupant's traitorous mind (stupid traitorous mind) realized the position they were in, and quickly pushed Mr. Boo off to stop something rash and inappropriate for virgin eyes to witness from happening. Mr. Boo of course was _slightly_ naïve, so he was pained and sad for their rather childish game to come to an end.

Unfortunately, it is considered that children can hold grudges for an extremely long time unless they are given something to compensate for their hurt feelings. So, Mr. Boo being the naïve little boy he was, he held a grudge against Ms. Occupant for 5,000 years…

no just kidding, more like 3 days.

Ms. Occupant was getting sick and tired of being sick and tired of the poor, naïve, angry, grudge-holding Mr. Boo so she decided to do something about it.

She was going to bake pie.

A pumpkin pie.

And there would be a slice of orange on top.

Upon watching the scene, the nargles were intrigued as to what Mr. Boo's reaction would be.

It was the Big (yes, with a capital "b") day…

Ms. Occupants slowly approached the unsuspecting Mr. Boo.

The carpeted floor was tense with anticipation. The fireplace was tense with expectation. Ms. Occupant's shoes were tense with excitement. Heck, even I'm tense! And then we zoomed in on the poor quivering orange slice, so tense, not for the fact that it would unknowingly be eaten, but for the simple reason that everything else in the room was undoubtedly tense. (The poor orange slice would be even tenser if it knew that in approximately 10 minutes and 3.24956 seconds it would be eaten by the nargles mentioned in paragraph fourteen.)

Ms. Occupant continued on her death-defying trek across the tense carpeted floor. Once again, Mr. Boo was trained in situation like this so he was prepared for someone to appear in his line of vision at any random moment in the next ten minutes and 2.8934 minutes.

What he didn't expect was a piece of pie, with a slightly shaking piece of orange on it to be shoved under his nose.

Connected to the pie was a plate…

connected to that plate a pair of hands, which were connected to the arms, belonging to one Ms. Occupant. Mr. Boo would gladly accept the aforementioned pie, but because he was naïve, and was currently holding a grudge like a five year old denied a lollipop, he refused the glorious slice of pie.

Now, I know what you are thinking. _Why didn't he take the pie?_ It should have compensated what Ms. Occupant did. But you see, dear reader, Mr. Boo, well, he did like pie, but he absolutely abhorred oranges, he simply would have taken the orange slice of and burned it, but that would mean taking the pie and he couldn't do that – hence the grudge-holding. What he _did_ want was the person whose arms were connected to the hands holding the orange slice-that-was-in-his-vision-he-abhorred

Of course he very well couldn't tell her that, it would ruin his dastardly plans. Well they weren't exactly dastardly; he wasn't planning on taking over the world. He just wanted Ms. Occupant.

Ms. Occupant was getting a bit worried. She had been standing there holding the pie for five minutes 'n' counting, and he was still glaring at her, or rather the pie she held. She jiggled the pie a little to get a reaction, and Mr. Boo jerked back. In perfect unison the shoes, the fireplace, and the carpet and gasped, or – well gasped like a shoe, carpet, and fireplace would.

The orange on the other hand just plain fainted.

While this collective gasping occurred, Mr. Boo turned his glare to Ms. Occupant, but in his peripheral vision he notice the orange slice stop shaking. Ms. Occupant was becoming even more worried than she previously was and she was beginning to wish Mr. Boo would just DO something already…

And then it just stopped.

Everything stopped.

All noise ceased to exist; all thoughts were stopped and sent back to their creator. Every voice had stopped murmuring. Outside the wind had died down, and Fang stopped howling. Teachers stopped conversing, house elves stopped squeaking, and girls stopped giggling. For five seconds the world was still, absolutely still. But in those five seconds, Mr. Boo and Ms. Occupant noticed nothing that occurred around them. All they noticed was each other intense gaze. One worried and one angry. They also happened to notice the poor, poor orange slice, lying passed out on the pumpkin pie.

_Poor Orange Slice, _Ms. Occupant thought.

_Ha! Go rot in orangey-orange hell Mr. Orange Slice,_ Mr. Boo thought.

The fireplace, carpet, and Ms. Occupant's shoes just sighed and sadly shook their heads, mourning the loss of their dear,dear comrade, Mr. Orange Slice.

He smelled good.

The gazes once again locked (insert dramatic music here) and all of Mr. Boo's internal laughing ended.

Now remember dear reader, this all happened in the space of five lovely seconds. When the noise started up again, and all normality returned to the castle (or the amount of normality one would suspect of students learning to be witches and wizards in a magical castle) Mr. Boo decided to take some sort of action.

Slowly unfolding himself from his chair, where he sat, Mr. Boo stood up. Ms. Occupant backed away regarding him with an expression akin to both caution and curiousness. Gently taking the pie from Ms. Occupant, Mr. Boo placed it on the fireplace mantle, before turning to once again face Ms. Occupant with a very serious expression on his face and a strange look in his eye.

Mr. Boo took a step forward and Ms. Occupant took a step back. Another step forward and once again a step back. It all looked like a strange dance. They continued until Ms. Occupant was backed up against a common room wall.

During their odd pace forward, pace back, the orange slice had woken, dazed and confused. He then caught sight (although oranges don't have eyes and they can't really see…) of the two rather odd humans occupying the room. He noticed that the she-cook was trapped by the he-receiver. He felt sorry for the she-cook for she had pealed him away from his very annoying, and orange siblings who had begun to tease him for his slight crush on Janice, the beautiful ripe and yellow lemon being peeled from her siblings beside him (but that's another story.) Regretfully the orange slice could do nothing. He could not save her for, alas, he was small, puny, and really he just did not like the he-receiver.

Mr. Boo took one more step towards Ms. Occupant so he was not but seven inches from her face. The next thing Ms. Occupant knew was that her hands were in his hair, his arms around her waist and they were kissing like there was no tomorrow, like divers needed oxygen, like a rich fat kid in a candy store, like a… well, I think you get it.

Nah, just kidding. Trust me, I wanted it to happen too. What did happen goes like this:

Mr. Boo took Ms. Occupants hand in his, and Mr. Boo had loomed closer to Ms. Occupant's face until their noses were touching ever so slightly. He whispered, "tag" before straightening up and turning around. Then, unexpectedly he turned around and kissed her on the corner of the mouth. The newly christened Mr. Tag proceeded to jog out the portrait hole with a smirk on his face.

Poor Mr. Tag… he is so naïve. He did not realize what he had done had brought an extreme outpour of emotions to form in Ms. Occupant's mind. He wasn't supposed to do what he had just done. She was mad.

Very mad.

She was so mad she was going to hold a grudge. Mr. Tag had just walked away, when he was supposed to be her little slice of orange yumminess. She raced out the portrait hole to hunt down Mr. Tag so she could continue what he had started. That should compensate for enough.

At least the nargles were full some ten minutes later.


End file.
